Escape, Infiltrating, and The Truth
by Ali-070
Summary: Victor has been pulling away since August, and I have known him many years, but this cannot continue, for I will surely die if he doesn't notice that I am being hunted. My hunter is near, and if I have to leave him, then I will protect him the best that I can. My name is Sang Melody Sorenson, and I'm a violinist.


Fanfiction – The Ghost Bird Series

The Shadows and Victor's Requiem

**Bolded **things are from C.L. Stone`s Story**.**

**My heart thundered under my breast. I was sure my parents could hear me, asleep in their beds inside the two-story, gray-siding clad house on Sunnyvale Court.**

**Rain puddled at my feet, soaking the dirt of a thousand walks into my off-brand tennis shoes. I usually enjoyed the rain. I liked the feel of walking barefoot through puddles in the grass and the smell of rain mixing in with the pine trees. Tonight, the rain was cold and the air crisp against my skin for early August in South Carolina. I would be out all night, though, so this was terrible timing.**

**With my toes pointing out at the street, I stood at the edge of the long driveway. A brisk wind split through my dark poncho. I wanted to shiver, but I steeled myself against the cold.**

_**This is it**_**, I told myself**_**. If you're going to leave, you need to do it now.**__  
_  
With that in mind, I set off. I adjusted my overflowing bag filled with all that I would need for the night. I would then, leave all the unnecessary things somewhere else after tonight. The rain kept coming down; I did not want to be a part of these people's schemes.

My parents, I thought with disdain. They abused me in every way, and they wanted to sell: my body, my talents, my thoughts for the highest bidder. Well, no more, will they have access to the cash cow. Let them rot!

I set out onto the night and walked away.

"I had precisely Twenty-four hours; 1,440 minutes; 86,400 seconds, until someone might start to look for me. I hope with all my might that I am not discovered sooner. The Clock is against me and closing in every second. There were only two things I need to do before I leave Charleston, South Carolina. First, I need to give Victor my letter. Lastly, I need to disappear. My parents may be abusive, but they're corrupt to the core; My sister, Marie, might be a part of the plot to kill me, so she is of no use to me." I thought to myself as I walked.

A few miles closer to downtown I found a payphone; honestly surprised that the bar, it was housed at, still had one with everyone having cellphones nowadays.  
I was able to call a cab to take me to the bus station. I was freezing and damp from the rain.

"The Poncho did not help much, but it was slightly useful. At least my things were dry." I mused. While I waited, I went inside the bar to use the bathroom. Ten minutes later, the cab arrived. He asked, "Where to?"

I asked him to, "Take me to the Bus Station Terminal". My voice was not what it used to be, sweet and soft like wind, now only sounds like glass against the road; rough and growly; the Step-monster made me drink acid. Lemon juice and vinegar... I thought with disdain. At least she indirectly helped me. I count it as a bittersweet victory.

"Sure thing.", The Cabbie replied.

I made sure that he couldn't see my face. My hair was wet; he obviously couldn't know what my hair color was. There was a high possibility that he would be questioned later if he had seen me. I did not want him to get hurt; I said nothing and hid in my poncho and looked out the window for the duration of the ride. I tipped the Cabbie and nodding; I roughly thanked him for the ride. My throat started to burn slightly. It still wasn't healed from earlier that week. I suppressed the urge to cough.

I entered the bus station; hurrying to escape the rain. The Bus Terminal was loud; my shoes irritatingly squeaked with every step. I don't think anyone noticed a soaking wet kid in a useless rainfall covering. I wandered around trying to find the storage area for passengers. After an annoying amount of time, I found the lockers.

I stored my bag in Locker 2B. I grabbed a change of clothes and went to the restroom to change. I grabbed the wet clothes and tossed them in the nearest receptacle. I then hid the wet clothes with paper-towels; When I was finished changing. I tried to dry off some so I won't be freezing and get sick, I washed my hands with hot water, wiped my face and put on a ball cap that stole from my neglectful and unfilial father. I went back to the Locker and grabbed my wallet. I locked the Locker 2B with a padlock that was in my bag. I now only have Twenty-Three hours, and Fourteen Seconds left to escape.

I shoved the wallet deep in my pants pocket and started to walk. I passed by someone who was sitting underneath a sill, on a bench, and they took off a soaking wet coat. They looked at it and then at me, "It isn't much, but it looks like you need it more than I do lassie." They handed me the coat. I smiled and nodded. My face covered by the ball cap. I took the coat, even though it increased my chances of becoming ill due to the cold and continued my way. I eventually ended up in front of the Morgan Estate. I dropped my letter in a mailbox. I looked at the estate with a sad mournful smile. Goodbye Victor, My love. And I pulled the wet hoodie, and ball cap farther down hiding my face in shadow. I walked away to finish my tasks to escape. My Parents and the Shadows were going to be hunting me, if they haven't already discovered my absence. Thunder and lightning cracked as if to seal my promise of escape.

~~~••••

Seven Hours Later

Point of Perspective Change:

I walked down the hallways within my home. I politely smiled at the maids and servants as they passed me by. I climbed-the stairs feeling exhausted and went to my room. As I entered, I noticed a letter on my piano. "The maids must have brought it in", I thought. I walked over to my grand piano and picked it up. In elegant scrawl was my name, Victor, across the front of the envelope and nothing else. I flipped it over and took out the parchment to read. I unfolded the letter, sat down on the piano bench, and began to read:

Dearest Victor,

My prince,

I -

Find –

It hard to write you this but I have a duty to us. For if I never tell you now, I'll surely will-be-unable to utter the words that need to be said...

However, unfortunately, I must.

It has come to my attention that you knew!

You Knew About Everything!

Victor, you have lied to me- Repeatedly!

You have lied to my face, when I asked you if you knew about my status as an undocumented person and if you would help me and put my family away, you denied me.

You denied having any idea about it and seemed shocked.

I queried you about, "if you knew that I was being abused?"

Again, you disclaimed any involvement in that conversation or knowledge of it.

Which hurts, so much; that you don't listen to me!

I have discussed it with you about it before. You have clearly, shown that you disregard me. Victor!

That hurts me, my love; you hardly ever seem to listen to me or my opinion, anymore.

What happened to my attentive prince? Where has he gone?

You used to listen to me! You used to care about me! You used to love me!

What happened to us, Victor?

I'm heartbroken that you felt that you couldn't tell me what you were doing for that day or any day afterward; when I asked: "How you were doing?"

I feel as though you do not trust me. I know from the look in your eyes, that you love me.

Once upon a time I felt the same; love.

You disappear at all hours of the day and night for long periods of time.

Every time before you disappear you get a call or a text and then you are rushing out the door; never giving me an explanation as to why. When I ask about you abrupt disappearances, you lie to my face.

This makes me feel less than, like I'm not important to you.

I've told you every single day that I love you; all you do is smile lightly and bow your head in acknowledgment of my feelings and you turn away!

This hurts more and more every time you brush me off. You didn't use to do this. Why are you doing that?

I have stated point blank that I am abused, raped, assaulted, and neglected at home.

I have told you to your face that I'm a ghost, because of a beating one night where I ended locked in the closet- naked and bloody. In which I found my birth certificate is the same as Marie's but with my name in place of hers. I called you that night! Did you know that?! But the same as always you don't respond.

I guess I stayed with you because you were the first friend that I had.

Slowly those feelings turned to love.

But now, I know I cannot stay, I cannot tell you why.

This discovery, of being a ghost, has given me a cage.

Because of this: I am unable to: get a degree, go to college, get a job, be married, to go to the police: they'd kill me!

Who you may ask?

I've told you before.

You just need to recall it.

If, you can't then…

I don't know what to say to you.

There are many more things that I'm unable to do because of my father's greed and his actions. Coupled with the fact that you are now emotionally abusing me.

I cannot stay anymore.

I cannot continue anymore.

I'm sorry.

Goodbye my dear, 

I shall see you in another life. 

All my love and my affections,

Your princess, and past love  
Sang Sorenson

I felt numb. I can't breathe.  
My body shaking, and my hands slackened, dropping-her letter. I could hear discords and Capello's thrumming in my ear. My vision blurred and water tracked down my face. Physically representing my drowning- numbness and hurt. I hadn't thought about it before from her perspective, but I could see where everything went wrong. I thought I told her about my team, and what we did. But clearly, I never didn't up tell her. I heard what she said but I always was brushing her off thinking about something else that pertained to my team. I loved her but maybe, I only loved her for her music. Not her as a person. Her violin playing entranced me. Every note she played spoke of her. It was how we met; Her, in a dress of my favorite color and me, in a tie of hers. Purely coincidental, I'm sure. But in the course of our friendship and then relationship, I pulled away and, in a way...  
I feel as though I left her to die.  
Her music was frill of anger and sorrow and then, we met. Her songs were played with every part of her and in that time together... we were happy. More and more I didn't notice because I was not there. In the last few months we only really spoke was through our letters. I sincerely regret it now because she is gone. She told me if I ever received a letter like this;  
She would be gone and dead. I thought that she was joking around and again I played the fool. I clenched my jaw, I couldn't hear the notes anymore only my thundering heart.  
I slumped and began to cry in earnest, holding my head in my hands and letter at my feet by my grand piano as every other thing seemed to fade away. I began to fade away and I crawled beneath my piano and laid there till I passed out and stayed there for some time analyzing my hurt and everything that we said played repeatedly in my head. And I cried again in the dark.

~~~••••••••

Seven hours earlier:

In the rain, In the soaking jacket, looking like a drowned rat... I started to plot my death. There is only so much that I Could do by myself.  
I know that the shadows that are hunting me, hunting me, Will. Kill. anyone I care about. The only reason I know the shadows are after me, Is due to Volto. Volto figures himself to be my protector, which is creepy but helpful.

**Perspective change:  
Volto**

She never sees.  
She never sees what I see about her little boyfriend. I sneer at the thought of that little boy. She deserves better.

I know something or someone is out to get her. She goes to that little boy with bruises on her and I cannot fathom why he did not help her. His precious Academy is supposedly there to help 'victims'; I don't see that happening. I see traumatized people being taken advantage of by other people for their own purposes. I don't know if they even know what they're being groomed for.  
Lucian is going to be caught one of these days breaking and entering, what is he going to do with a rap sheet when he is older? Mooch off his Uncle. Most likely. I wonder what my beautiful Melody is playing? Discord, or Harmony?  
Either plan surely will be fun see.

Hehehe. Tick tock little boys time be running out for you. The shadows don't like you. What they don't like...

Dies.

~~~••••••••

I cannot stay here. I have fifteen hours left until my pursuers are upon me. My death will have to be shown as close casket, and I know just the person to contact. My guardian. Volto.

I am currently riding on the bus towards downtown. The rain is still coming down and the sky thunders. I'm still drenched. I managed to sneak on the bus because all my money is still in the locker at the international bus station. My thoughts began to drift to my plan and how I'm going to die. Along with the key to survival. The  
violin has the key. The key to my survival; Volto's number and my weapons. Who would suspect an innocent instrument as a multi-functional object? No one. The SHADOWS gave it to me as a result of my graduation from their infiltration academy. But the one who had designed the violin is dead. I killed them myself. I destroyed all documents pertaining to it; it was insurance and a backup plan for this exact scenario, minus my Prince. I never foresaw him entering my life. The past year or so is a blur to me; I probably should try to remember what has happened to me and find my clues on how to escape the SHADOWS. My time here in Charleston, South Carolina is coming to an end swiftly; so is my alias of Sang Melody Sorenson.  
I stared at the darkened scenery through the water splattered windowpane began to recall the past.

The SHADOWS are an assassination and mercenary organization. I was sold to them by my father when I was fourteen years old. He claims that it was to pay off his debts. At the time, I believed him because he was the only person who didn't lay hand on me and seem to care about what happened to me. My Step-monster and wicked sister deemed me to be a nuisance. Step-monster declares that I had to pay for my whorish ways and to live under her roof. Earlier that year I could learn about music and tempo. As I was told that that whores don't spread their legs for knowledge - only to be violated by men. Day after day I heard that I was a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, ugly and all kinds of names. After a while I began to believe that I was ugly, a monster that destroyed and deserved everything I was punished for. The music was my saving grace. I performed for people who would listen. I sang enough to gain the moniker, "Blue Jay". All my songs were melancholy and a call to the baser part of who people were. Two months before I was sold, my Father had to take a business trip and took me with him.  
He drove me to the airport and said to get out. He told me I was not allowed back in the house until I made enough money to cover three violins. He handed me to one he got from somewhere; most likely a thrift shop. The varnish was cracking, and the strings were not in the best condition. The bow was about ready to snap from the tension on the fraying strings. I was grateful for the instrument at the time because it was the first thing that was ever truly mine. The clothes I wore were all hand me downs. The shoes had holes in them. I was malnourished due to the punishments my step mother would inflict upon me for any reason. My sister, Marie, was a jealous witch. She blamed me for everything. I thought that it was okay. Sisters are supposed to look out for their own. She didn't. That morning I was made to kneel in rice and drink a concoction of lemon juice and vinegar because the mail man looked at me. Marie told Step-monster. I was punished. I was unable to sing let alone speak. So, I let my violin do my talking with in that airport where my father abandoned me. I let out all my frustration and sadness. Around Two in the evening in that southern airport, I met my Prince: Victor Morgan. I didn't know that it was him at the time, but he offered me a chance to be great. Even with that crapshoot violin that I was gifted, I smiled at him even though I was wary and afraid. He asked me again if I would accept. I had no reply. I just kept playing and he left for a while. I played for another hour; he came back with a piece of paper and money. He dropped it in my violin case, and he left with a smile. I never did end up answering him.

For that weekend, I was malnourished and homeless. I dare not spend a cent. I met another nice boy on the street, he called himself William. Told me call him Will, though. My throat was still burned by the chemical mixture forced down my mouth. I couldn't reply to anyone; even if I wanted to. He asked for my name. I played my violin and pointed at a Blue Jay bird. He called me Melody.


End file.
